


To Be Seen

by sgracestann



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Developing Relationship, Development of Sylvix, M/M, Modern Era, Sylvix over time, sylvix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23440540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgracestann/pseuds/sgracestann
Summary: Since childhood, Sylvain and Felix have continuously collided, each slowly falling for the other as time passes.Essentially, snapshots of modern-day Sylvain and Felix falling in love.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	1. The First Time

Sylvain still clearly remembered the first time he had met him. It had been at Dimitri’s seventh birthday party, which Lambert and Patricia had invited everyone in their gated neighborhood to. Faerghus was a typical suburban community, with monthly barbecues and angry PTA moms (Sylvain’s overbearing mother being one of them), which led to forced friendships with most of the other kids in the area.  


Despite lateness in the year, the sun had miraculously decided to shine that December day, seemingly giving its approval to Dimitri, the neighborhood’s golden boy. Sylvain was enjoying the warm weather, sword fighting Dimitri and Ingrid with long sticks they had found in the grass, when he caught the eye a lonely looking boy on the swings across the yard. He hadn’t seen the boy before and he was friends with everyone his age, at the persistence of his mother. The boy quickly looked down, making Sylvain determined to talk to him. “Count me out of this round,” he shouted, dropping his stick.  


“You can’t leave me alone with Ingrid,” Dimitri whined, “She’s gonna win!”  


“Sucks,” Sylvain called back in a singsong voice, stumbling over the knolls of grass. Looking back, he saw Ingrid smirk and smack Dimitri square on the shoulder with her tree branch. He snickered, slowly dropping his smile when he got closer to the mess of dark hair. A pair of dusty brown eyes flicked up to meet his own.  


“What do you want?” were the first words Sylvain ever heard the boy say, as he sat on the swing next to him. His voice was soft but filled with distrust and annoyance.  


“Geez, I just wanted to ask if you wanted to play with me and Dimitri.”  


“Well I don’t, so just leave me alone,” he responded, fiddling with his sleeve.  


A small silence filled the space between them, and Sylvain spun his swing in circles, tangling the chains before looking over at the mop of tangled hair again. “What’s your name anyway?”  


“Felix. And I don’t like you.”  


“Well I’m Sylvain and I don’t like you either.”  


Felix glared at him. “Well good for you, stupid idiot.”  


Sylvain narrowed his eyes, refusing to break eye contact. “Why are you so mean? I’m trying to be nice.”  


“Why don’t you go be nice to my brother, Glenn, then? Everyone likes him better anyway”, Felix retorted, venom in his voice as he turned up his nose. “Besides, you smell weird.”  


Sylvain lifted the fabric of his shirt from his armpit and sniffed it. In all honesty, it did smell pretty bad, but Sylvain wasn’t going to admit that. He was wearing his favorite shirt, a hockey jersey Miklan had gotten him, for the third day in a row, much to his mother’s disappointment. With no good comeback in mind, Sylvain responded several seconds too late. “Well, you _are_ weird.”  


Felix sneered at him, motivating Sylvain to untangle himself from the swing, stick his tongue out, and strut away triumphantly. In his young mind, it had been a victory; he had gotten the last word. He rejoined the mock battle with Ingrid and Dimitri with a renewed fervor, angry at the interaction with Felix.  


“I can’t believe you talked to Felix,” Ingrid cooed in awe, “He’s so mean.”  


“Shut up, Ingrid,” Dimitri countered, “You have a crush on his brother.”  


"Oooooh,” Sylvain teased, pulling one of Ingrid’s pigtails. “Ingrid is in looooove.”  


“No, I’m not!” Ingrid pouted, blushing a deep red. “And at least _I_ don’t have a crush on Felix,” she declared, triumphantly.  


Sylvain turned as red as his hair. “That’s not what it is!” He yelled at Ingrid. “Yuck!”  


“Whatever,” Ingrid smirked, glad the attention was away from her. “I bet you wish that blue-haired girl in your class would have a play date with you, but she won’t.”  


Dimitri and Ingrid’s laughter was enough to shut Sylvain up for the rest of the afternoon. But he couldn’t help glancing over at Felix every few minutes, observing the wistful look on his face as he stared back.


	2. Distractions

Once he hit high school, Felix saw Sylvain everywhere. Considering he had skipped the eighth grade and was now in the same class as Sylvain, it made sense; they both attended Fhirdiad High, and Sylvain’s shock of red hair was unmistakable. At least that’s what Felix told himself, as an excuse his daily, conscious search for that striking mess of unruly hair. Sylvain, it seemed, was at ease in any social situation. Freshman year of high school, he got on to the varsity soccer team and had perfect grades without even trying, making him a huge hit with the “ladies”. Felix told himself he didn’t actually have any interest in knowing these things about Sylvain, and that everything he learned about Sylvain was against his will, as a side effect of popularity. However, every time he saw that tall frame, with a smaller figure next to it, he secretly wondered if he could have been the person standing beside Sylvain, had he accepted that offer of friendship so long ago.

Unfortunately, Glenn was also on the varsity soccer team, which meant Felix was dragged along to every game. So, the autumn of his freshman year, every weekend, Felix had to see Sylvain in that stupid blue and silver Blue Lions uniform, his face flushed and glistening with sweat. Which meant he had to relive the last time he had spoken to Sylvain, weekly. It was torture.

One Saturday, halfway through October, Felix was sitting in his usual spot on the bleachers, beside his father Rodrigue, pretending to be interested in _King Lear_. In actuality, he was peering over the edge of the pages to observe Sylvain, his hair curled with sweat, his eyes a molten amber in the sunlight, his blue shirt clinging to. . . Felix shook his head, clearing thoughts of Sylvain. In the corner of his eye, he noticed his father watching him.

“What?” Felix demanded.

Rodrigue sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why do you idolize that pompous Gautier boy so much? You really should be looking after your brother’s example.”

Felix flushed. “I don’t idolize him, Father,” he snapped, closing his book. “And Glenn isn’t an example for me by any means; I’ve surpassed him academically.”

“Yes but. . .” There was that sigh again. “He’s playing sports while you invest your time in those ridiculous drama classes. Garreg Mach likes to see a more well-rounded schedule, Felix.”

“All due respect, I’m not having this conversation with you again, Father,” Felix hissed through his teeth, nostrils flaring. 

“Felix, your mother and I have expectations of you. You had better not disappoint.” 

Felix clenched his jaw, and dug his fingernails into his palms but said no more, glaring intensely at the game. Suddenly, he made eye contact with Sylvain, who had been about to pass the soccer ball to Glenn. Sylvain furrowed his brows in response, losing focus and tripping over the ball, contrary to his intended purpose. Glenn rolled his eyes as Sylvain recovered, but the other team had already claimed possession. 

“Exactly why you need to have higher standards; that boy is going nowhere if he can’t even kick a ball without feeling the need to satisfy gravity. Glenn is a far better athlete and example.”

Felix dug into his palms even harder, tired of hearing about his perfect older brother. It took all he had in him to bite back a response. He zoned out for the rest of the game, bubbling with frustration. He only snapped back to reality when his father mentioned something about talking to the coach, before leaving him alone on the bleachers. Felix returned to reading Shakespeare. His father always took ages when talking to Coach Galatea. Apparently, the two were friends from their Garreg Mach days. The only worthwhile member of the Galatea family was Ingrid. Felix had become best friends with her by bonding over a disgust for their parent’s high expectations on the days when their parents watched football together and they were left unattended in the back yard.

A patch of red hair made its way up the bleachers, toward Felix, pulling him out of his musings. “Hi. Felix, right?”

Felix tried to look disdainful, but his heart rate jumped. Damn social anxiety, he thought, breath catching. “What do you want?” he asked.

“I see you haven’t learned any real conversation starters since we last spoke.”

“You. . . you remember that conversation?”

“Of course. I remember every time I’ve ever been rejected,” Sylvain joked, sweeping the ruffled hair on his forehead back. 

Felix scoffed. “Again, what do you want?”

“I just came over to ask if you would stop death glaring at me while I’m trying to play. It’s really killing my game. It’s almost as bad as when I flirt with Principal Seteth’s daughter! Man, he does not appreciate that.”

“Do you have anything worthwhile to say to me?”

Sylvain rubbed the back of his neck. “God, you’re unnerving. But really, you’re a huge distraction when I’m playing.”

Felix’s heart skipped a beat as he arched a brow. “Oh, really?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sylvain sputtered. “Just. . . maybe be less intense.”

“My countenance should have no affect on your athletic abilities. Perhaps that’s a problem you should figure out yourself,” Felix replied coldly, before picking up his book and getting up to leave.

“Wait.”

Felix turned back, narrowing his brows. “What?”

“Why do you hate me so much? Everyone likes me,” Sylvain said, giving Felix a half-smile. 

“I think you know the answer to that.”


	3. Sit With Me

Sylvain heard about the accident two days after it had happened, at an assembly at school. Glenn, who he’d become best friends with since joining the soccer team, and Dimitri, a sophmore this year (who had become a quintessential addition to their friend group), had been maintaining radio silence, no matter how much he called and texted them, wondering why they’d been skipping soccer practice. He’d figured it was just a typical, scheduled assembly, but nothing could have prepared him for the shock of what Principal Seteth said that day.

“I’ve gathered you here today to notify you of a tragic event that recently occurred. Two days ago, Glenn Fraldarius and the family of Dimitri Blaiddyd were involved in a car accident, with a student from Duscur High School. Glenn and the parents of Dimitri were lost in the accident. In light of these somber events. . . “

The blood rushed through Sylvain’s ears roared as his breathing quickened, drowning out the stale sound of Seteth’s projected voice. His best friend, one he’d known for the sixteen years of his life, had died. With no warning, no explanation. Desperate for air, Sylvain left the gym like a cornered animal, tripping over the feet of other students that had false sympathy on every line of their faces. Once he was in the hallway, with its dirty linoleum flooring, blinding fluorescent lighting and aging blue lockers, he collapsed. He didn’t notice he was crying until wet tears splattered onto his hands, and he felt his shoulders shaking against the brick wall behind him. 

“Have you talked to Dimitri yet?” A voice to his right asked softly.

Sylvain looked up into an unexpected pair of green eyes, rimmed with red. “Ingrid? Are you okay?”

“I- not really. I was getting worried when Felix stopped responding to everything the other night, but I never expected this.” She hiccuped, rivulets streaming down her face. 

Sylvain leaned his head back against the wall, fighting against the lump in his throat. “I just can’t believe. . . Lambert and Patricia. . .and Glenn?” his voice broke. “I just-”

Ingrid interjected by grabbing his hand tightly. At that moment, it meant more than any words they could exchange. And so they sat, quietly crying over losses that weren’t entirely theirs, yet hurt more than anything they had felt before.

The next few days felt colorless to Sylvain as he drifted through classes his father had forced him to continue to attend. Finally, on Friday afternoon, he was able to close himself in his room and hide under his covers. Hours or days later, he couldn’t tell or didn’t care to, his mother gently came into his room and sat on the edge of his bed. Rubbing circles onto his back, she spoke.

“Glenn’s funeral is today, Sil. Do you want to come?”

Fresh sobs wracked Sylvain’s body. He didn’t want to leave the comfortable nest he’d made in his comforter, where thoughts of Dimitri and Glenn had persisted, clawing at the aching feeling in his chest, reminding him to cry every few minutes. 

“It’s okay if you don’t, honey. Just think about it, okay? It’s in three hours.” 

“Mom?” 

“Yes, Sil?”

“I can’t stop thinking. How do you-” a sob broke his voice. “How do they feel right now? I can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to lose you. I mean, it’s bad enough that I lost my best friend, but I can’t-” he covered his mouth, crying even harder. “I can’t even imagine what it would be like to lose you or Miklan.”

His mother ran her fingers through his unwashed hair, sighing deeply. “Sil, you can’t put yourself in that position. The grief that you’re feeling right now is enough of a burden for you. Don’t try to take on the feelings of others.”

Sylvain slowly sat up, taking a shuddering breath. “I think. . . I think I should be there. To say goodbye, you know? I’ll never see him again after this.” A fresh round of aching melancholy ate at him as he voiced this inconceivable truth.

“Good. You’re gonna be okay, Sil. Just take some deep breaths.”

And so he did, able to keep his breathing moderate until he entered the chapel that the funeral was being held in. The Fraldarius’ were standing near the door, speaking quietly to a close family member. Dimitri stood with them, eyes rimmed red, countenance drooping in his black suit. A closed, white casket sat near the altar. None of these things prompted tears though; he managed to sit through the entire service, feeling hollow and empty. After the service, when everyone had moved to a reception area in a different part of the church, a small figure in the front row remained, black hair tied back in a disheveled bun, shaking softly. Seeing Felix sitting there, abject and alone, felt like a punch to the gut. Sylvain, weeping silently, plodded up the aisles and took a seat next to Felix on the hard, dark-stained wood. Felix raised his head, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes when he registered who it was.

“What do you want?”

Sylvain almost cracked a smile at Felix’s habitual greeting. “I wanted to ask if you’re doing okay, Felix.”

More tears spilled from Felix’s eyes. “Do I _look_ okay? Glenn is gone.” His crying intensified, and he cradled his face in his hands. “I just can’t do this.”

Sylvain tentatively put an arm around Felix’s trembling form, and he, much to Sylvain’s surprise, leaned into the comfort.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Sylvain asked.

“Just. . . just sit here with me please.”

So he did, sharing in the grief of the boy that had lost everything he had, and more, as the world moved inaudibly around them.


	4. Unconventional Roommates

Felix had spent the last two years itching to be free of his home; free of the somber attitude that hung like spiderwebs in every facet of the house, of the disappointment from his parents because he could never replace Glenn, of the infuriating presence of that pig Dimitri, who had moved in with them shortly after the death of his own parents. Dimitri had become unusual friends with the other driver involved in the accident, Dedue Molinaro, a friendship that Felix felt spat in the face of Glenn’s memory. 

But the day had come at last, when he could escape it all. He’d been accepted to Garreg Mach University, his parents’ dream school (and secretly his). It was halfway across the country in a small university town called Seiros, where he could finally distance himself from the ‘Tragedy of Duscur’, as everyone had dubbed it, after Principal Seteth’s poor word choice in his half-hearted eulogy. It was an opportunity for a fresh start, he told himself, as he packed boxes of clothes and books into the back of his car. A way to get away from the building pressure he had felt every day since Glenn’s death.

When he finally reached the check-in desk for his dorm, Lowell Hall, he was bursting with excitement, despite the fact that his parents were there, helping him get settled.

“I’m here to check into my room.”

“Name?”

“Felix Fraldarius.” He quickly spelled out his last name, knowing the RA would never get it right. 

“Ah, gotcha. Here’s your student ID card. Your roommate already checked in, so you’re good to go.”

Felix paused. “Roommate? I applied for a single dorm room. There must be some mistake.”

“No mistake. You might’ve been one of the later applications; students that applied earlier got priority for singles this year. The University accepted more incoming freshmen than it had the capacity for so everything is a little crowded this year.”

“I don’t care,” Felix bristled. 

“Will we be getting a refund for the payment we made on a single?” his father interjected, brows knit. 

“You’ll need to contact the bursar’s office for that.”

Felix rolled his eyes and set off with his suitcase, his parents following closely behind.  
“As soon as we’re back at the hotel, you’re calling the Dean, Rodrigue. For all the donations we’ve made over the years and the fact that we’re old friends with President Rhea means we should fully expect preferential treatment for Felix. This is ridiculous!” Felix’s mother ranted, drawing looks from other students in the long hallway.

“What else would I do, Rin?” Rodrigue responded, irritation edging into his voice. “Ah, look, we’re here. Room 117.”

The door was slightly ajar, so Felix pushed it open, straight into Marcus Gautier’s back. He dropped the stack of books he was holding and quickly turned on his heel, a move mirrored by his son as he heard the books drop.

“You’re my roommate?” Felix asked, incredulously, trying to gain his bearings as his heart began to pound.

“What are the odds?” Sylvain winked, setting down the fishbowl he was carrying. Felix felt a blush rise up his neck as Sylvain continued to talk. “Anyways, my dad was just helping me finish up, but I’ll give you the room to unload into. C’mon, dad.”

Marcus said hello to Rodrigue as he left, but was shooed out of the room by Sylvain before he could say anything else. Felix breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Sylvain had surreptitiously excused himself but completely blindsided by the situation. “Well, I have everything here, and I should be good to unpack on my own, so you’re good to go,” he said, attempting to dismiss his parents. Unfortunately, they couldn’t take a hint.

“I’m not leaving until you promise me that you’re not going to let that _heathen_ influence you. It was bad enough that you had to have a roommate, let alone it be Sylvain Gautier. That family is bad news,” his mother claimed, jutting out her chin. 

Felix sighed, knowing the only way to get her to leave was to comply. “Yes, mother.”

“Good,” she responded. “I’m going to go talk to that RA. I won’t take that kind of attitude from a college student.”

Rodrigue gave Felix a knowing look as Rin left the room. “She means well.”

“I know.”

“I want you to know, Felix, I know it’s been hard the last couple of years, everything with your brother, but you’ve somehow managed to exceed expectations with all that’s going on. I’m proud of you, son.”

Felix nodded, but the words felt empty somehow. It was as if everything he did, everything he accomplished, was tainted by Glenn somehow. Begrudgingly, he hugged his father goodbye and shut the door softly. Halfway through unpacking his box of sketchbooks and art supplies, Sylvain loudly entered the room. 

“Hey, Felix! Long time, no see. How’s it going?”

“I’m fine,” Felix replied, a little too coldly.

“Almost two whole years since you’ve spoken to me, and I was honestly expecting more than two words.” 

“Well lower your expectations. I’m not here to entertain you.”

Sylvain bit his lip, contemplating Felix with a look that demanded his attention. Sylvain had somehow gotten more attractive over the summer since Felix had last seen him at graduation. Honestly, genetically speaking, it was unfair. The sun had bleached highlights into his already mesmerizing red hair, his shoulders had gotten broader, and freckles dotted cheeks that were no longer round. Not that I’m paying attention to that, Felix thought to himself, as he shook his head.

“Listen, Felix. We’re gonna be living together for the next year. We might as well get along.”

Felix looked away from him and continued to unpack his mugs filled with shading pencils and colored pens, the silence in the room stretching like a balloon, about to pop any second. Eventually, Sylvain broke the tension, because Felix was far too stubborn, by sitting on the floor across from Felix, close enough that Felix could see every freckle. 

“You seriously have to tell me what your problem is with me.”

Felix stared into Sylvain’s amber eyes, feeling annoyance rise in his chest. “Ugh, why do you care so much?”

“Because,” Sylvain started, “I’ve been trying to get through to you for ten years. Ten years. I obviously want to be your friend Felix. I don’t know why you resent that so much.” 

Felix’s stomach dropped a little at the word ‘friend’, but he ignored it. “You want to truth?” Sylvain nodded, giving Felix a look of sincerity, an expression that Felix hadn’t ever seen grace his face. With a sigh, he began, trying to swallow a lump in his throat. “That first time I met you, on the swings. . . Glenn was in the hospital. He had a severe case of pneumonia and had almost died. My parents had dropped me off at Dimitri’s party, wanting everything to seem normal to protect their reputation, and had rushed off to see their favorite son. I wasn’t exactly in the mood to make friends.”

“That’s why you don’t like me?” Sylvain asked in disbelief. “It has nothing to actually do with me? Whew.”

“Can you shut up?”

Sylvain zipped his lips and immediately followed with, “continue”.

Felix rolled his eyes. “Anyway, we went to different schools, so the next time I saw you was in high school. Where you became friends with none other than Glenn, my perfect older brother.” Here, Felix had to pause, for fear of crying. As he started again, Sylvain gave him an annoyingly sympathetic look. “It’s just. . . everything available to me in life somehow links back to Glenn. You’re his best friend. It’s just not easy when I’m expected to do all my parents wanted from him. I wanted a fresh start, coming here, but it looks like I’ll never have anything that’s just mine.” Felix stared as his feet, eyes dangerously close to spilling tears. 

“Well, I never said I was _available_ to you,” Sylvain quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

“What?”

“You said everything ‘available’ to you was tainted. I’m not available.”

Felix almost cracked a smile but bit it back. He grabbed a pillow and smacked it over Sylvain’s head, knocking him backward. “I pour out my soul to you and you tell me you don’t want to date me?” By now, they were both laughing. “What the hell is wrong with you, Sylvain?”

“What’s wrong with me? You’re the one _assaulting_ me on our first day of college,” Sylvain retorted, grabbing his pillow and thwacking Felix in the face. Except he leaned a little too far forward, lost his balance, and landed in a pile on top of Felix. Felix could feel Sylvain’s warm breath on the tip of his nose, and his tangly hair brushing his forehead. His eyes widened and he hesitated a second too long before pushing Sylvain off of him and hitting him with the pillow again. Sylvain flushed as a contemplative look flitted across his face, barely long enough for Felix to register. “So, are we good, Felix?”

“We’re getting there,” Felix replied, with a small smile, before lobbing his pillow into his roommate’s face.


	5. 2am Truths

Sylvain woke to a _crash_ in the hallway, and fumbled out of bed, tripping on his backpack on his way to the door. He stubbed his toe on the doorframe as he left the room, biting back a _fuck_ as he grabbed his toe and danced on one foot.

Byleth was in the hallway, picking up the shattered pieces of a vase Felix had received from his mother, as a gift for his first apartment. Navy and white fractals decorated the hardwood floor, scattered beyond Sylvain’s eyesight. He immediately felt annoyance bubble up in his chest, as the pale face, framed by blue hair, looked up at him.

“I’m so sorry- I really didn’t mean to. I was- I was just going to the bathroom,” she blubbered.

“The bathroom is the opposite direction,” Sylvain whispered tiredly. 

Sylvain heard a _thump_ from Felix’s room, across the hall from his own, and Felix’s grouchy face appeared at his own door. 

“What was that?” Felix asked, scratching his head. His dusky eyes widened as he saw the mess that the blue-haired girl was attempting to clean by scraping the pieces together into a pile. “Shit! Sylvain, what the hell?” 

“Byleth, just wait in my room. I’ll take care of this.”

Byleth awkwardly let the shards she was holding drop to the floor and slipped back into Sylvain’s room. 

“Did that wake Linhardt up?” Sylvain asked. 

As Felix peeked back into his room, Sylvain felt jealousy shoot through him. Felix looked back and shook his head. 

Sylvain sighed in relief. “Thank god, he’s so cranky when his sleep is interrupted. Anyway, I’m gonna go grab the broom.” Sylvain disappeared, then reappeared with a broom and handed Felix the dustpan. 

Felix numbly accepted it, not sure if he was angry at Sylvain. “Dude, I’m so screwed.”

Sylvain laughed. “Yeah, your mom is gonna be _pissed_.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, trying not to smile in his fatigued state. “Mm, it was ugly anyway. Who was that?”

Sylvain glanced back at his closed door. “She’s just someone from my advanced econ class.”

“Another one of your flings?” Felix inquired in annoyance, holding the dustpan down for Sylvain to sweep a pile into. Sylvain thought he detected a hint of jealousy in Felix’s voice.

“Yes, another one of my ‘flings’.”

Felix sighed. “When are you gonna get into a real relationship?”

“Probably not anytime soon.” Sylvain focused on the task at hand, trying to avoid eye contact with Felix. “It’s not like any of them like me anyway. All people care about is how much money I have.”

Sylvain looked up to Felix laughing softly. “Maybe if you stopped leading with your trust fund, Sylvain, people wouldn’t care about it.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. The person I like isn’t ever gonna notice me anyway.”

Felix stood, and walked to the kitchen, dustpan in hand. “So, the incorrigible Sylvain has a crush.” He dumped the contents of the dustpan into the trash and sat on a barstool. “Tell me about her.”

Sylvain felt his face redden. He maintained silence as he filled the kettle with water, set it on the stove, and grabbed a mug out of the cabinet next to the microwave. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

“No. What I want, Sylvain, is to hear about this girl.” 

“Ugh, fine.” Sylvain leaned across the counter, directly across from Felix. He could see the bags under Felix’s eyes, purplish under the glare of the kitchen fluorescents. “What do you wanna know?”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “What does she look like?”

Sylvain looked at Felix, mentally tracing the curve of his jaw, taking in the warmth of his eyes and shiny black hair, which was tied back in a bun. A bun that Sylvain wanted to take out and run his fingers through while bumping his nose against that perfect face-

“Sylvain?” Felix asked, snapping. “Are you good?”

Sylvain offered a weak smile. “So, what kind of tea did you want?”

“I already said I didn’t want any. Stop avoiding the question. God, normally you’d be happy to talk about a girl.”

Sylvain’s shoulders drooped, as he pulled away from the counter and poured the boiling water into his mug. The faint smell of bergamot filled the kitchen, and he turned back to face Felix. “Well,” he sighed into his mug. “She has long, dark hair and the warmest brown eyes I’ve ever seen.”

Felix leaned in closer, intrigued. He motioned for Sylvain to continue, grabbing the mug from him and drinking from it. 

“Hey, you said you didn’t want any!”

“Well, I lied. Keep talking.”

Sylvain grinned. “She likes to pretend she’s cold, but once you get to know her, she’s endearing and sweet. And she’ll do things like steal your tea at two in the morning, or take ten years in the bathroom in the mornings, or not notice that all the girls you have over are to make her jealous.”

Felix’s eyes widened in understanding. “Sylvain, you know I can’t- I- Linhardt-” He set the mug down on the counter and cradled his face in his hands. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

Sylvain felt his heart drop to his stomach. “I know. It’s just you asked, and I was so tired of hiding it. I’m not expecting anything from you.” 

Felix stared at him, heartbreak painted in every facet of his face. “I’m sorry. I- I’m going back to bed.” 

Sylvain watched him as he walked dejectedly back into his room, feet padding softly over the dark floors. As soon as Felix’s door was shut, Sylvain collapsed into the still warm barstool Felix had occupied. He swallowed the lump in his throat and nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt, trying to process what had just happened. _What just happened_ , he thought to himself, _is that you ruined your relationship with your best friend. Unbelievable, Sylvain. Just ri-_

His thoughts were interrupted by a door closing. His head snapped up hopefully, but it was just Byleth, bag in hand and shoes on.

“I’m just gonna head out,” she said uncomfortably. 

He nodded and failed to notice her leave, as he returned to his reverie.


	6. Out Loud

Felix thought Sylvain noticed when Linhardt stopped coming to the apartment. He must’ve noticed when Felix started leaving cups of tea for him on the counter before leaving for class, as a sort of peace offering. He definitely noticed when Felix sat down in front of him at the dining room table, fingers nervously tapping the smooth wood surface.

“What do you want?” Sylvain said, a little too coldly. At Felix’s lifted brow, he hastily corrected himself. “Sorry, that was- my bad.”

“So.” Felix cracked a smile. “The teacher becomes the student. I didn’t realize you were using my conversation starters now.”

Sylvain was clearly struggling to not smile back. Through a forced frown, he set down his microeconomics textbook and asked again, “What do you want, Felix?”

“Take this.” He set down a letter, wrapped in a plain envelope with the name Sylvain hurriedly scrawled across the front.

Sylvain gave him a quizzical look, failing to respond as he slowly slid the envelope toward himself with the tips of his fingers, eyes trailing over the scribbles that barely resembled his name. Sylvain was being coy, taking his time, and Felix couldn’t bear the silence a second longer.

“Look, after almost a month of you being totally absent, I’m going insane. So uh. . .” Felix ran a hand through his disheveled hair, heart thumping wildly in his chest as a blush rose to his face. “You can read it if you want to, but I have no expectations.”

A nod in response. He looked ready to say something, and Felix felt adrenaline coursing through his body, making every one of his cells feel startlingly alive with anticipation. After a couple of seconds of looking at Felix wistfully, that small, curved mouth finally blurted out “I’m doing an exchange program next semester.” When Felix didn’t immediately respond, Sylvain continued, fumbling for words. “I’m leaving for Sreng, this college town near Quebec, once winter break is over. I might end up transferring if I like it.”

Felix stared at him in stunned silence, not understanding the turmoil of emotions bubbling in his chest. The blush drained out of his face, as he paled in shock. He felt like he’d been shot in the chest. “You’re leaving?” He asked softly.

Red eyebrows furrowed. “I just figured you didn’t want me around anymore. I didn’t think-”

“No, you didn’t!” Felix shouted, fighting back a lump in his throat.

Sylvain looked at him helplessly. “We haven’t talked in weeks! What else was I supposed to do?”

“Uh, talk to me! Obviously, asshat.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite. You literally wrote me a letter because you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I wrote that because I didn’t know how to talk to you!” Felix could feel tears now, streaming down his face, but he refused to let them stop him. “And you know what? Now I wish I hadn’t because obviously you don’t deserve my honesty. It _clearly_ isn’t reciprocated.”

Sylvain stepped back like he’d been slapped. “What does it say, Felix?” His voice was thick and barely audible as he gripped the slip of paper in his fist.

Felix glared at Sylvain as regret dug its heels into his heart, and crossed his arms. “It’s in your hand. You tell me,” he spat.

As Sylvain opened the letter, Felix felt like crawling into a hole. Or back into his room, so he could hide in his bed. Anything to manage the catharsis of sharp and unsettling emotion he was experiencing. But his pride forced him to stay, standing across the table from that infuriating, reckless, _devastating_ figure, waiting for the inevitable satisfaction of the reaction he knew his letter would invoke.

To Felix’s horror, Sylvain began to read _out loud_.

“ _‘Dear Sylvain, you’ve been getting on my nerves for years.’_ ” Sylvain smiled at Felix sarcastically. “Real funny Felix.”

“Maybe if you kept reading you wouldn’t feel the need to make snarky comments,” Felix shot back.

Sylvain rolled his eyes and continued. As he read, Felix remembered every word, etched into his brain like the feelings that had forced him to write it. But he didn’t stop Sylvain, whose gentle voice had silenced him and given him a surge of hope he’d been too scared to feel before.

“ _‘You never seem to consider how your actions hurt others, or how holding back does the exact same. You aren’t careful or calculated in anything you do. You act on impulse and are insatiable in all manners.’_ Felix, what the hell is this even supposed to be?” Sylvain queried, amber eyes cutting into Felix.

“If you don’t want to read it, give it back.”

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna keep reading this, pretty boy. It’s making you blush.”

Felix scowled.

“ _‘It’s those things about you that make you perfect to me. Your impulsivity is always out of excitement, or passion for something, or someone you care about. And your insatiable nature is just a desire to learn and enjoy as much of life as possible. So, all of the things I thought I hated about you? The more I learn about you, the more I love them. And you.’_ ” At this, Sylvain glanced up at Felix, eyes round and cheeks flushed. Felix was struggling to maintain his composure as he waited for judgment from Sylvain. The ginger-haired boy returned his focus to the paper in his hands, which were shaking, and carried on in silence. Felix gripped the chair in front of him, in the absence of Sylvain’s voice, unable to gauge his reaction to the remainder of the letter.

“ _‘Sincerely, Felix.’ _” Sylvain had finished, slowly breathing out the last words. He glanced up at Felix, who was digging grooves into the chair with his fingernails. “You. . . you feel the same way?”__

____

____

A bolt of lightning coursed through him. Sylvain, the boy who had maddeningly ensnared his heart, felt the _same way_. Felix wasn’t sure how to respond. “I-I guess I do," he breathed.

“You guess?” Sylvain’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head if he widened them anymore. He stepped closer to Felix, filling the inches between them with potential, with heat, and Felix with an urge to cut through the tension. “This entire letter about how you ‘always should’ve known’ and thought that I was so ‘hot playing soccer’ and you guess you like me?”

Felix stared at him, floundering for a grasp on the situation, unsure of what game Sylvain was playing. “Can’t you take this seriously? I just told you I love you.” As soon as the words left Felix’s mouth, he wanted to take them back. The crushing weight of vulnerability wasn’t a load he could bear alone.

“I just wanted to hear you say it out loud,” Sylvain admitted, relief visibly relaxing his shoulders. A pause and then the words Felix had been waiting to hear. "I love you too. I've loved you for a long time, Felix. ”

And suddenly the weight was gone, vulnerability making Felix’s heart soar as Sylvain joined him in the ordeal. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the ones looking straight into his soul. “Can I give you a hug?” Felix felt his voice tremble with a surge of overwhelming emotions.

__Sylvain grinned at him wickedly. “How about a kiss instead?”_ _


	7. Felix's Letter

_Dear Sylvain,_

__

__

_You’ve been getting on my nerves for years. You never seem to consider how your actions hurt others, or how holding back does the exact same. You aren’t careful or calculated in anything you do. You act on impulse and are insatiable in all manners. Yet, it’s those things about you that make you perfect to me. Your impulsivity is always out of excitement, or passion for something, or someone you care about. And your insatiable nature is just a desire to learn and enjoy as much of life as possible. So, all of the things I thought I hated about you? The more I learn about you, the more I love them. And you._

__

_For a long time, I tried to deny that I had any feelings for you. There were a lot of things holding me back. Your friendship with Glenn, for one, hurt for a long time. I always regretted not taking the opportunity to be your friend when we first met, and you being close to Glenn always felt like salt in the wound. And then when he died, his death seemed like the only thing that we had any common ground on. It took me some time to move past his death, and your connection to him; I’ve only recently been able to look at you and talk to you without that constant reminder. I know none of that is your fault at all, but I feel like it’s important to mention, especially after that conversation we had the first night in the dorm._

__

__

_Speaking of which, I know you probably think that’s the first time I ever warmed up to you, but I think I always felt something for you. Seeing you at those soccer games in high school was initially horrifying, because of how I ‘rejected’ you when we first met, but it eventually became the highlight of every week. I could take a break from school and family, and just watch you in your element; bright, sweating, and beautiful. I don’t think anything compares to you with the sun shining on your freckled face, grass in your hair, and the look of absolute concentration that you always had. I always wondered why you’d look for me in the crowd, making that awkward eye contact and losing focus. I guess I know now, but then I was terrified of considering the implications. I want you to know though, that you’ve been giving me nausea (or butterflies, whatever you want to call it), since then._

__

__

_I genuinely had no idea you felt the way you do. I regret my reaction to what you said, but I understand if you want nothing to do with me after reading this. But I have to let you know. The girl I like? Well, she has red hair and the most stunning amber eyes I’ve ever seen. She likes to pretend she doesn’t really love anyone, but once you get to know her, she’s compassionate and bold. And she’ll do things like not wash the dishes when it’s her turn, or leave her backpack in the hallway for me to trip over._

__

__

_But I don’t just like you Sylvain. I’m in love with you. Every single part of you._

__

__

_Sincerely,  
Felix_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is the final chapter of this fic. If you're interested in more of my content, you can find my Tumblr [here](https://aspeninke.tumblr.com/) . Thanks for reading!


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